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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620460">Five Slayers Giles Never Served</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_kicker15/pseuds/punch_kicker15'>punch_kicker15</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Angel: the Series, Buffy the Vampire Slayer (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>5 Things, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-07-31</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-05 08:55:32</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,402</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/25620460</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/punch_kicker15/pseuds/punch_kicker15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Five AUs with different Slayers, same Watcher.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Summer of Giles</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Five Slayers Giles Never Served</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><b> 1) Maggie Walsh (Sunnydale, 1965) </b> </p><p>“Come here, poppet, let Mummy see all the worms in your brain,” the vampire murmured. </p><p>“G-go away!” Instantly Rupert felt stupid. The stammer made him sound babyish. And she couldn’t go anywhere; she was stuck inside Catherine’s magic force field. Still, he moved as close to the weapons rack as he could. </p><p>He picked up the Drusilla Utterance notebook and wrote, <em> 6:30 pm. Come here, poppet, let Mummy see all the worms in your brain. </em> </p><p>He leaned up against the basement wall. It just wasn’t fair.  He was old enough to have a sacred destiny, which meant no more summer holidays. But shadowing Gran didn’t mean he wasn’t allowed to go on patrols or cast spells. He just sharpened stakes, took dictation from insane vampires, and fetched books for Gran. He wasn’t a child when they needed him to run some boring errand, but he was a child when anything remotely interesting was happening. Maggie and Catherine weren’t that much older than him, but people took them seriously. </p><p>“Leave a little for me, Eyghon, he bleeds so charmingly!” she wailed. </p><p><em> Why can’t she spell the names of the demons she talks </em> <em> about? </em> He copied the phrase in the notebook with “I-gone?”.  </p><p>Drusilla started to sing a song about posies but trailed off about halfway through. A few minutes later, she was snoring.  </p><p>Something felt off about the room. He made a circuit of it, making sure none of Gran’s dark magic volumes had been moved from the top of the bookshelves. The weapons mounted on the wall were all there. As he passed by Catherine’s magic ingredients shelf, he realized what was missing: the smell.  </p><p>Usually, there was had at least a faint odor of formaldehyde from all the oogy demon parts that were used for spells, and under that, the musty scent of old books. But now, the room had no scent at all, which felt deeply wrong. </p><p>He ran his hand over his nose and flinched. His nose was ice-cold, and his fingers ached the way they had last Christmas when he played in the snow without mittens.  </p><p>But this was California in the summertime, and it was always beastly hot outside, even at nighttime. The cold had to be a trick. Gran had said that Maggie was keeping Drusilla as an experiment. If they could cure her sickness, maybe her special vampire powers could be used for good. </p><p>The chill fanned out from his hands, sending goosebumps up his arms, and then reached his chest, pushing against it, making him cough. <em> Did she blind me? No, you idiot, your glasses fogged up. </em> </p><p>He wiped the glasses on the hem of his shirt, trying to ignore the chill biting into his legs.  </p><p>After what felt like an eternity of shivering and feeling sorry for himself, the door blew open, and an icy wind smashed him hard against the basement wall. His eyes watered as he pushed against the wall in a useless attempt to move.  </p><p>The door slammed shut, and Maggie rushed down the stairs carrying Gran, and laid her gently on the table. Gran’s hair was covered with frost, and her skin was blue. Catherine followed, carrying Gran’s favorite sword. </p><p>He scrambled to the table. “Gran?” </p><p>Across the room, Drusilla laughed. “Poor little lamb. My grandmummy’s cold too, but not so still.” </p><p>“I’m sorry, kid.” Maggie said. “The hospital tried to revive her, but she was too far gone by then. Catherine’s magic didn’t help either.”  </p><p>He stood by Gran’s side, trying to read her face to see if she’d been scared, or if it had hurt. Her mouth was slightly open, and her eyes were stuck in a glare. Maybe the cold had caught her mid-sentence, and she hadn’t even known she was going to die. </p><p>Catherine dumped some books on the table on the other side of the basement. “I could use some help,” she barked. </p><p>He took Gran’s stiff, ice-cold hand in his. He couldn’t stop looking at a frozen tear at the corner of her eye. Maybe she did know. </p><p>Maggie put a hand on his shoulder. “We need to find everything we can about a light blue demon, about three feet high, with six arms and three eyes. He’s going to freeze the world if I can’t find a way to stop him.  We need you to help.” </p><p>“B-but I--” His heart must have been frozen, too, because he knew he should have been screaming or crying or something instead of stammering incoherently. </p><p>“The world’s about to end. What do you think she’d want you to do?” </p><p>He slowly lowered Gran’s hand to her chest and headed towards the bookshelves. </p><p><b> 2) Lilah Morgan (Los Angeles 1985) </b> </p><p>“Why are you breaking out the tea?” Lilah asked. </p><p>“I have to speak with you on a matter of some delicacy,” Giles began. </p><p>She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, has a particularly refined demon come to town?” </p><p>Of all the days to forget his handkerchief. He desperately wanted to clean his glasses right now.  After fiddling with a biscuit, he decided to forge ahead with the conversation.  “It has come to my attention, and The Council’s attention, that certain videotapes have been circulating for sale in the Los Angeles area.” </p><p>“Let me guess, <em> Footloose </em> ? <em> Mr. Mom </em> ? <em> Repo Man </em>?” Lilah’s smirk didn’t quite reach her eyes; he braced for the impending explosion.  </p><p>“Videotapes of you killing demons while wearing outfits, which, erm, leave very little to the imagination.” </p><p>She snorted. “Well, of course I’m in my underwear! What else is gonna make someone buy these tapes? The demons just look like cheap crappy special effects. Have they ever expressed any concerns about my my mom? Or how I’m supposed to pay the rent without her help?” </p><p>“Er, no.” He cringed internally; sometimes it felt like his main duty was defending the indefensible on behalf of The Council. </p><p>“Didn’t think so.” She smacked his desk with the palm of her hand.  </p><p>He winced as tea sloshed out of her teacup. “Could you at least consider their concerns?” </p><p>“You’d think, out of self-preservation, they’d want me to focus on world-saving, not putting food on the table. I don’t care about people too stupid to look out for their own best interests! Now if you’ll excuse me, I have a Yeti to capture.” She stormed out of his apartment. </p><p>With a sigh, he sat down at the typewriter and composed a memo: </p><p><em> To: The Decorum Committee </em> </p><p><em> From: Rupert Giles </em> </p><p><em> Re: Videotape sales </em> </p><p><em> I have conveyed your concerns about the videotapes to The Slayer. She has given them all the respect that they deserve. We’ll contact you if we require any further assistance on this matter. </em> </p><p>3) <b> Tara Maclay: Susanville, California, 1998 </b> </p><p>So far, All Saints Day had been a bit of a bust. He’d expected more demons after the Halloween dormancy. So far on this patrol, they’d only encountered a rather pathetic demon the size of a pigeon. Tara had dispatched with her usual serene confidence. </p><p>There was a flash of movement ahead, near one of the taller grave markers. Giles rushed forward, his heart pounding. As he neared his target, he realized it was only a deer.   </p><p>It was so irrational. A quiet night meant that no humans were being harmed on his watch.  He should be grateful. But it would have been nice to take out all his Council frustrations on some hapless fledgling vampire. </p><p>Tara finished her sweep of the cemetery and stopped by a headstone with a cherub sculpture on top. </p><p>He caught up to her as she traced the engraving, a wreath of poppies. She didn’t speak. She’d been quiet, even for her, since last week’s unpleasantness. He’d tried to give her space, but perhaps now was the time to reach out.  </p><p>“I wanted to let you know how proud I am of you for the way you handled Kralik last week. That fence picket gambit was quite ingenious.” He watched for any change in her impassive expression, any sign that he was getting through. </p><p>Nothing. Then, with breathtaking speed, she grabbed him by the shoulders and threw him to the ground, pinning him there with a knee against his chest. The impact left him gasping for breath. </p><p>She loomed over him, gripping a stake. <em> This is probably the last thing a vampire sees</em>, he thought. </p><p>“I did everything you ever asked me to do for three years! I never tried to make friends, because you said they were a liability. I never complained. I thought you’d at least have my back when it came to Slayer stuff. I thought you were like a dad to me. But you only cared about passing your Watcher’s test.” Her words reverberated through the cool night air, with a vehemence that was palpable. </p><p>What could he say? They were both naturally reserved people, which helped him keep the Council-recommended emotional distance from her.  And it wasn’t particularly surprising, given her family situation, that she might have thought they were closer than that.  </p><p>“I’m sorry,” seemed woefully inadequate, under the circumstances.  </p><p>“I’m done with you and The Council. I’m going to find a place where I can make one real friend before I die.” She dragged him closer to the headstone, uncoiled a length of rope, and tied him to it.  </p><p>“Tara, if you do this, The Council will come for you!” He squirmed against the ropes, scraping his wrists, but of course there was no give. Tara was too competent for that. </p><p>She shrugged. “It’ll be fine. Another Slayer will be called.” Then, without a backward glance, she ran out of the cemetery. </p><p>4) <b> Anya Emerson: Sunnydale 1999 </b> </p><p>Giles gestured at the plans written on the chalkboard. “I’ve informed The Council of our current, erm, predicament, and they’re trying to locate the newly activated Slayer--” </p><p>Xander rushed into the room with a girl trailing behind him. “Giles, there’s someone you need to talk to.” </p><p><em> Where do I know her from? Oh, it’s the demon girl who </em> <em> opened </em> <em> that temporal fold. And Xander’s prom date. </em> Giles didn’t bother trying to mask his annoyance. “This isn’t the time for pleasantries. We have less than twenty-four before the Ascension, and no Slayer to guide us.” </p><p>Xander exchanged a look with Anya. “I think what she has to say is pretty relevant.” </p><p>"I have Slayer powers now. How do I return them?” Anya chirped. </p><p>Everyone around the table gawped at her, a mirror of his internal incredulity. </p><p>“It’s true,” Xander said. “She dusted three vampires on our way over here without breaking a sweat.” </p><p>Giles sat down heavily in his chair. He desperately wanted to hand this apocalypse off to another Watcher and go home and mourn Buffy. Instead the universe was handing him this absurdity. </p><p>“Well?” Anya demanded. “The powers make me a target. I just want to get out of here alive. How do I get rid of them?” </p><p>He sighed. “There’s only one way to get rid of them.” </p><p>Cordelia slid her fingers across the neck, complete with sound effects. </p><p>He buried his head in his hands for a moment to think through the ramifications of this turn of events. Of all the possible outcomes of losing Buffy and Faith in one night, this was probably one of the better ones. He had a Slayer here now, and she had knowledge of magic and hands-on experience with killing.  The reluctance to fight could be managed. </p><p>He racked his brains for everything that he’d learned about vengeance demons. “Have you told D’Hoffryn about your plans to flee? Or--” <em> think of another vengeance demon’s name </em>"Lloyd?” </p><p>Her bewildered expression suggested that he’d struck a nerve. He pressed on. “What would they think if you’d been given powers a second time, and refused to inflict pain on a pure demon?” </p><p>“Well, they don’t know. And you don’t have D’Hoffryn’s talisman. So, powers or no powers, I’m running.” </p><p>Giles gave her his most withering glare. “You don’t think The Council has ways of summoning D’Hoffryn? After thousands of years of study?” It wasn’t exactly a lie. There could be a summoning method in one of the volumes in the library.  </p><p>He folded his arms against his chest and adopted a nonchalant expression. Desperate times called for desperate measures. If the only cards he had to play were bluffs and blackmail, then he’d play them for all they were worth. </p><p>5) <b> Willow Rosenberg: Sunnydale 2001 </b> </p><p>“I cannot believe you would be this reckless,” Giles sputtered. </p><p>Willow peeled off the last of the electrodes and dropped it in a plastic bag. “It wasn’t reckless! Ben had all the equipment to revive me once he’d stopped my heart.” </p><p>“You still could have died!” His inner sense of pedantry forced him to add, “Permanently.” </p><p>“Just like every night you send me out on patrol,” she shot back.  </p><p>His left eyelid began to twitch. “That’s a traditional Slayer activity that has been practiced for thousands of years. What you did tonight was meddling with forces we can’t possibly understand.”        </p><p>“Forces, schmorces. I’m fine and we got a new Slayer. Kennedy’s psyched to be called, and she’s bringing her Watcher with her. She can handle the ordinary vamps while I focus on protecting Dawn. We could take turns letting Ben do a Flatliners on us and create an army of Slayers to fight Glory.” Her tone was light, but he caught the subtle desperation beneath the surface. </p><p>He took a deep breath.<em> She’s under a lot of pressure trying to save the universe and protect her sister without any parental support.  </em>“Let’s start over. I’m grateful that you survived, and that Kennedy can help. But please consider that it could have turned out very differently. Ben’s a junior doctor, and he could have run into trouble reviving you. We don’t know what would happen to Dawn if you died.” </p><p>At the mention of Dawn’s uncertain fate, her eyes welled up. Good. </p><p>He pressed on. “Not every potential Slayer has a Watcher, and not every potential Slayer is fit for the role. There have been rogue Slayers in the past, and they’re capable of wreaking enormous damage. Imagine trying to fight Glory and another Slayer simultaneously.” </p><p>“Then what should we do instead?” She leaned against the shop counter, her face scrunched up in dismay. “Nothing we've tried has worked.” </p><p> “I’m certain we’ll think of something,” he lied. </p>
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